


when night is our forever

by addictedtoacertainlifestyle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kylo is some sort of shadow entity, Praise Kink, Reylo Monster Week, and Rey's into it, basically just a pwp, or PWC - Porn With Context
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-09 00:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16439525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedtoacertainlifestyle/pseuds/addictedtoacertainlifestyle
Summary: In the darkness, he is everywhere.In the darkness, they become one.--Written for Reylo Monster Week, Day 7





	when night is our forever

**Author's Note:**

> i wish i was sorry, but i'm definitely not.
> 
> this concept came to me during a long train ride and begged to be written down. so, here it is. it's also my first foray into proper, explicit smut, so please forgive me if it's not up there - i'm still learning the ways of porn, haha. i'd be really happy if you left kudos and a comment after reading, i'm interested to know how I succeeded. you can also contact me through my tumblr, abstractragedy, if you feel like it.
> 
> the next project i'm working on is RFFA Fic Exchange, so i'll see you again after the New Year!
> 
> i don't know if it's proper to say this but... enjoy!

  In the darkness, he is everywhere.

  As soon as the lights are off and the pitch-black cover of the night falls over them, he pounces. Kylo sweeps Rey off her feet into a tight embrace and carries her to her bed. His warmth surrounds every inch of her, and the thick blanket of anticipation slowly provokes a heat of her own to be born, making its way through her body.

  He sets her down onto the soft sheets and she surrenders to his ministrations gladly, lets him gather her shirt in his hands and pull it off her, leaving her bare to his midnight gaze, one she cannot see herself but still knows it to be there. Their mouths meet in a kiss, first gentle, but quickly shifting to ravenous. She responds to it with all her might, familiar with the way he moves, but the ways of his velvety tongue will never become mundane to her.

  After a moment he turns his attentions elsewhere, descending along her neck and collarbones to her breasts. He takes mouthfuls of her flesh, paints the even-coloured expanse with purple bruises, lovebites from the shadow, each of them a mark of ownership. He returns with the same, lupine pace, while two hands gather her face so that he can hold her still when his lips reach hers.

  His hands gather her, vining her into him, heated and hungry.

  In the darkness, they become one.

\--

  Rey is certain her shadow isn’t normal.

  See, the point of the shadow is to always keep at bay, to follow its host and observe from afar. Not knowing anything of the shadows is meant to be terrifying, a way to keep yourself from acting improperly when you know there’s always someone watching your movements. It is a constant stranger you’ll never get to know, an unknown companion, always lurking over your shoulder when you don’t look. The less you know of it, the more unsettling it is, the strange creatures that disappear in daylight and return when your surroundings darken. Many people refer to it as their own personal monster, one that’s unable to attack just yet but intending to when the time is right.

  Her shadow doesn’t quite fit the description, though. Of course, it’s still rather uncomfortable, its huge form towering somewhere nearby when she goes about her day, always out of her sight but never from her mind. It’s more than enough to keep her on guard. But it’s not entirely hostile; no malicious, evil intent emits off of it like other people say it should. It just _is_.

  If nothing else, she knows that no other shadow has a name, like hers does. Or that it’s a _he_ instead of an it.

  Because one day, her shadow began to speak, insisting her to call _him_ Kylo. Rey was terrified at first, for shadows have never spoken to their hosts in the whole recorded history of them. And to increase her confusion, he did it like it was something he’d done forever; his voice was clear and low, a masculine hum, sounding intimidatingly close that of a human’s. He could fool people easily, if he only just looked like one.

  Most of the time he hides in the corners, or on the ground as she walks, hidden from the light and hardly speaking, merely observing her the way he’s supposed to. But when it’s dark out or she’s spending the evening alone in her apartment, he comes out of the confines he’s bound to during the day. Rey always hears or feels him more than sees, swirls of dust and small gusts of wind, but sometimes she catches the large form of him, even briefly glimpses a set of eyes staring into hers in the dark, shining a sullen, mahogany brown. Once, she manages to see his silhouette from the corner of her eye, a prominent nose and a bird-nest for hair.

  She can never see his true form. Only the sombre shadows remain of him, whispers of what once might’ve been.

  Soon enough, she grows used to his new presence—begins to expect it, even. When she gets home for the day, she closes the curtains and shuts the lights as much as possible in order to give him more space to move around. The evenings they spend talking, of nothing and everything, and Rey discovers Kylo to know a lot, much more than she anticipated.

  “I’m your subconscious, Rey,” he says once, and maybe it’s the lateness of the hour or the second beer she’s nursing, but she swears he sounds forlorn. “I know everything you do, even the things you’ve forgotten.”

  In his familiarity lurks the fear, she soon realises. He’s become more terrifying than he ever was when he stayed silent.

\--

  Everything changes a few months after Kylo began to talk.

  The nights start to linger longer and she stays awake in the dark, later each time. The hours pass by fleeting and fast, and then it’s not enough anymore.

  Tonight, Rey can’t sleep; she tosses and turns over a matter so small she shouldn’t be thinking about it, let alone letting it ruin her sleep. Kylo senses her discomfort in the dark and rustles over to her bed. Everything is quiet for a second, and then she can feel him touch the tips of her fingers with his own, fragments of an entity made from dark matter and the cold void. Nothing but warmth is found in the touch. _Sleep, I’ll watch over you,_ it says without words _, you’re safe._

  His unexpected contact of comfort is enough to make her finally fall asleep.

  Until she wakes up from a nightmare.

  Rey opens her eyes just as the painstakingly familiar, haunting feeling begins its trek through her, moving onwards from her chest until it has a hold of her whole body. She turns to her side to curl in on herself like a child in the need of shelter, blinking away the sleep so that she doesn’t fall back into the dream she’s already forgotten. But the feeling lingers, coaxes her heart to beat faster for the threat that’s nowhere to be seen.

  “Rey…” she hears Kylo’s concerned whisper, and then his solid form presses against her back, heavy for a shadow. His left hand settles to gently soothe her side, a repetitive movement to quieten her erratic heartbeat and chase away the remains of the dream.

  She lets herself doze off in his embrace for a while, certain he’ll keep the nightmare away; until his hand creeps a bit too high, slipping under her shirt, up her ribcage and she gasps at the sudden change, her calmed pulse spiking up again. His fingers make dapples going upwards, closer and closer and now a new feeling surges to take root in her body. Her mind is hazy, and through the fog she can only remain still, to see what he will do next.

  His hand envelopes her left breast, holds her there tightly and squeezes, eliciting a sigh from her. Warmth begins to gather, slowly dripping down from the flutter of her heart to the space between her thighs. She closes her eyes as Kylo presses his mouth on the nape of her neck in an open-mouthed kiss, sending a shiver down her spine and stealing a whine out of her.

  “It’s alright,” he soothes and nips the shell of her ear, a place she thought she’d never like to be touched, but is fast proven otherwise.

  Being cradled in someone’s arms like this, warm and looked after, Rey feels like slipping under the silence of sleep again, his touch having an unexpected calming effect. But as his thumb suddenly runs over the sensitive peak she opens her eyes, gasps when he pinches it. Somehow, another hand palms the neglected one, and he gently kneads them both while his mouth continues its ministrations on the back of her neck, lips dragging lazily up and down. Every once in a while, he blesses her skin with his teeth, a delicious flash of pain, but is quick to soothe it with a touch of tongue.

  It’s _everything_. He has her completely surrounded, and the pleasure that bleeds through the meeting of their bodies is like nothing she’s ever felt before. A fire simmers under her skin, slowly building a tension to her core, in the desperate need of something, anything: a release.

  “Kylo,” she manages to gasp when a new hand joins the other two, manifesting from the darkness to slip downwards, caressing the soft skin of her stomach on the way. He gets so tantalisingly close before stopping, and an impatient whimper builds in her throat. The sensations are nearly too much, the other touches turning to insistent and rough, slow but relentless in their pace, while the one stays teasingly still, making her thighs tremble with anticipation, liquid heat gathering between them.

  Then his fingers slip further to graze her curls, and slide down so that his palm cups her mound. It’s a lenient, barely-there touch, but in the absence of light it transforms into something illicit, forbidden. She shivers, and his other hands slow down but keep a steady hold of her.

  She’s not getting away.

  Rey turns her head towards the darkness to meet his lips in a heated first kiss, and it isn’t hesitant or gentle; there’s something familiar in it, echoes of something she feels as if she once knew. He is so pliant, so warm under her lips, almost like a human, alive and ablaze. His tongue is warm, too, when it touches her in the interface of their lips, and once it intertwines with hers, he swallows her sudden gasp. They stay like that for so long, everything else at a complete stand-still while their mouths explore each other.

  She doesn’t even realise she’s run out of breath until Kylo pulls apart slightly to end their kiss and the burning in her lungs subsides. Before her lies nothing concrete, only darkness, but Rey can feel his breath warm her chin.

  “May I?” resonates his voice, deep and feral.

  As if she could deny him.

  “Gods, Kylo, _yes_ ,” she sighs, and his answering chuckle is all she hears before his finger finally move to caress her, a tender, rhythmic movement to gather her arousal. A fourth hand appears to lift her leg over his hip, exposing her completely.

  His hands are everywhere, circling her peaks, squeezing her thigh and teasing her already sensitive clit. Too many things are happening at once, and the unsettling overstimulation makes her chest constrict—Kylo senses this, fortunately, and everything else stops besides the hand on her core. The world around her quietens and she can breathe freely again, everything fixated on one focal point.

  The first finger slips in easily into her wet heat, all the way to the knuckle, her body already asking for more. Rey whispers this into the dark, panting.

  “Anything you want,” he murmurs before adding another, sinking deep. Now it’s a small, delicious stretch and she can’t hold back her moan, her muscles tensing around his digits. “I’ll give you _anything_.”

  The tension is building up dangerously high and her eyes slip closed again, her mind lost to the sensations. It feels like flying, like rushing up a set of stairs, every touch taking her higher and higher, raising her to leap among the stars.

  “That’s my good girl,” Kylo purrs, and the words only bring her closer to her inevitable end, already within her reach. He nuzzles her hairline, lets the rumbled praise rain on her temple. “You’re being so, so good to me. You can let go now, my sweet.”

  Gods, if his words don’t take her off the edge, it’s the persistent rub of the heel of his hand against her clit that does it, and then she’s falling, falling down while the world shatters around her. The pleasure blooms forth until it buzzes in every nerve of her body, leaving her breathless and sated.

  When she comes down from her high his touch is gone, like it never had been there.

\--

  She wakes up in the morning with a dazed head and a mind full of images. Kylo is nowhere to be felt.

  A whirlwind of shame, zest and anger well up inside her as she remembers the events of the past night. Rey dashes away from her bed, not giving it another glance, lest even more memories resurface.

  What was she thinking?

  The whole day is spoiled by the incident; the hours seem to drag on for an eternity she can’t escape from. She feels like the whole world knows what they’ve done, what _he’s_ done. Everyone’s gazes linger a bit longer, each touch a bit too hesitant, as if they know what took place and could become spoiled by touching her. _They can’t know_ , she chants to herself, flushed and full of shame. She really, _really_ shouldn’t have let that happen.

  But it was good, wasn’t it? That’s why she’s so ashamed of herself, because she enjoyed it, far too much. No-one has ever made her come like he did, and the silent intimacy between them was something she never thought was possible to have. It doesn’t make it any less soiled, though. She has no idea how to feel.

  When Rey gets back home, she is seething. She slams the door closed with a growl and shuts the curtains, leaving the apartment in the dark.

  “Kylo!”

  It takes a moment, until: “What?”

  “You know what this is about. Last night.”

  “I see,” he says from somewhere behind her, and she can hear the smirk around his non-existent mouth. “Didn’t you enjoy it?”

  She blushes scarlet at the purr of his voice, but keeps her stance steadfast and her voice angry.

  “Of course I did. But that’s not the point! You cannot do that when I’ve just had a nightmare. Do you know how terrified I was?”

  “I know everything about you, Rey,” is his response, voice suddenly gentle, slightly defensive. “Your fear was all I could sense. I wanted to soothe you.”

  “You didn’t ask me permission.”

  The smirk is back again, but her anger isn’t strong enough for her to care. “Oh, but I did. And if I recall, you were rather eager to give it to me.”

  His words bring back the part she had forgotten, her needy sighs and— gods, if it doesn’t help the matters at all. She was just as a willing participant in it as he was, but…

  “Just… Don’t surprise me like that again, alright?”

  The over-cocky façade of him is gone, replaced with a guilty voice and a sigh. “Alright. I promise.”

  After that, he keeps low profile for a few days, stays within a distance and barely talks, even during the night. First, Rey is glad. She has gotten far too close to him, if that night wasn’t enough proof. No-one is as foolish, as fucked up as she is, sleeping around with her shadow, _a shadow that talks_ , a concrete form of her own subconscious. Nothing good will ever come of it if they touch each other again.

  The days pass by in a daze, and his absence gnaws a hole inside her.

  She misses him, she soon realises. Not just the way he touched her, his confident ways that made her body sing. She misses his presence, now only comforting instead of frightening, and his voice, the things he would speak with it. His obvious care and affection towards her. The new way of being he showed her, the humanity and compassion emanating even from an entity such as him. He knows _everything_ about her, from the most mundane things to the ones she hasn’t told a soul about. There’s no need for her to explain her thoughts, ideas or actions; he knows the intentions and the instincts behind them even better than she does. He’s the keeper of her most wicked thoughts, the past she’d rather forget, and yet— he’s not scared of her. Just like she isn’t scared of him, not anymore.

  He’s not a monster. Not to her.

\--

  The next evening, she’s made up her mind.

  “You know, I didn’t say you couldn’t do it ever again,” she says, loud and proud to the walls she knows him to hide in.

  She hears Kylo shift and move until he’s somewhere near her. The final light on her bedside table flicks off and then Rey feels him on the bed, tentatively at the edge of it. She lets her hand slide to the middle; his hand rushes to cover it, warm palm engulfing hers.

  “Rey…” he speaks, voice reverberating all around her. “Did you truly mean that? Because… Once I have you, I won’t let you go.”

  “What if I don’t want you to?”

  And gods, it’s the truth. The unbelievable but undeniable truth.

  She feels him come closer, the hand that was on top of hers slides up her right arm, gently squeezes her bicep on the way before coming to rest on her shoulder.

  “Are you sure?”

  His lips graze her cheek, something soft tickling her temple—a curl of hair, Rey realises, but sees nothing, only a faceless silhouette staring at her.

  Her silent night sky, chained and brought to life.

  “Absolutely,” she purrs, and this time she is the one to initiate a kiss, parted mouths colliding. She pulls back slowly, drags her teeth along his bottom lip, releasing a wicked snarl from him.

  Kylo kisses her like it’s something special, sacred, a blessing granted just for him, and she knows no-one else will ever compare to the ways of him. She might not see him or the way he looks at her, but his touch, his words, are more than enough to tell her everything she needs. His devotion cannot be rivaled, and she can only hope to match it. His movements are slow, and he seems to be in no hurry, revelling in the confirmation of having her as long as he pleases. The first time was rushed, and left no room for savouring every last detail. Now, the desperate, fast hunger of his is gone for a moment, and Rey enjoys every bit of it, the slow burn he’s intent on doing this time. It makes a shiver of anticipation run up her spine, impatiently awaiting whatever he will do to her next.

  A new pair of hands come up to gently pull her hair free from her three buns, and immediately begin to card through her tawny locks. She leans into the touch, lulling into a comfortable, drowsy state that only deepens as he begins a trek with his lips, down her neck and to her shoulder, a slow exploration. Rey presses her cheek against the warmth of the shadow, falling under his spell with such ease.

  Things become blur after that for a moment. She is only aware of him, the shadow surrounding her, the kisses he graces on her skin. It should be scary, giving away her control, but she trusts him, and she knows he won’t do anything she doesn’t want to.

  Deft fingers discard her nightclothes with ease, and he lays her down gently. His body ventures down, but a hand remains to lift hers above her head, twining itself around her wrists like a ribbon while two more get a hold of her legs, spreading them apart. Their grips are tight but forgiving, loosening a bit when she tugs against them. She could get free, if she wanted to, but he trusts her not to do so. That idea alone is enough for her heartbeat to rush downwards.

  Rey feels his breath ghost on her navel, where he leaves a smattering of kisses and a bruise on her hipbone, lips and teeth devouring her skin. She squirms at the touch like a butterfly pinned under a glass, restrained and under precise observation. Kylo stills just before her core. She can’t see, but she knows he’s looking at her, taking in the shape and shade of her; the thought makes her blush and turn her head away. Somehow, it’s even more intimate, to not see his gaze. The silence stretches on for so long she starts to think he will pull away, any moment now.

  Then he lays his mouth on her, and any concerns melt away with coherent thought. He licks a testing stripe up her slit, eliciting her first sigh. He answers to it with a pleased hum.

  “Beautiful,” he murmurs against her, the vibrations of his voice like another caress upon her sensitive core. He repeats the motion again, but this time he doesn’t pull back, only keeps going in a tardy, circling pace, his nose bumping against her clit. His movements are well thought-out, each of them sending an abundance of pleasure through her veins, slowly filtering into her bloodstream until his mouth is all she senses.

  “Kylo,” is the only word she remembers, repeats it like a prayer.

  He devours her like she’s a feast, like they’ve been kept apart for centuries and he can finally have a taste of her again. It doesn’t take long: a few more touches, ravenous laves of her slick, a moment of precise attention on the bundle of nerves and then she’s coming, the waves crashing in again and again as he keeps on going. His motions do not ease, only become even firmer; a hand holds down her hips as he delves back in without mercy and soon enough one turns into two, blurring into one big outbreak of bliss. His ministrations leave her pleasantly weightless, nothing occupies her mind besides him and his presence, all around her.

  His hands loosen their hold on her limbs, tenderly caress her skin as she descends back to her body, breathing becoming steady again. But it doesn’t last long.

  The high is not over, the first dose of pleasure releasing a wild need in her that only keeps yearning for more and refuses to settle for nothing less. She is willing to do anything to have it, already addicted to the way he plays her like a well-practised instrumentalist, every touch, every word another way to bring her pleasure. The desire within her has yet to dissipate, and with each passing second it only grows, voracious and greedy.

  “Kylo, please, I need–“ she heaves, not quite sure what is it exactly that she’s asking for.

  “I know what you need. I promised I’d give you anything, didn’t I?”

  He doesn’t sound degrading or smug, only affirming her what he’s already promised with a gentle, pleased tone.

  “Close your eyes,” he instructs and she complies within a blink. A hand closes around hers, guides it downwards, towards the inky blackness of him, and first she expects to only meet the void, until suddenly—

  “Oh!”

  Her fingertips graze his length, solid and already hard. Instinctively, she reaches further to wrap her hand around it to feel it in its full glory and gods— she can’t make her fingers touch, so large and thick it is. A distraught thrill shakes her, a thought of worry managing to occupy her hazy mind as she feels it tense and pulse beneath her palm. She doesn’t need to see it to know that Kylo is _very_ proportionate, more than adequate. How is he going to fit?

  “You feel that? That is what you do to me, little one.”

  He brings her other hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, an affectionate touch in the midst of this frantic frenzy they find themselves in. It soothes her worries she knows he must sense.

  “Do you trust me?” comes his low whisper.

  Rey opens her eyes and takes a deep breath, a small coy smile on her lips. “You know I do.”

  His hand lets go of hers and she lets herself sink back onto the bed, his body looming over hers that’s she completely surrounded by him, the darkness. His hands soothe her tense body, running over her legs, up her stomach to her shoulders and down her arms. Kylo gently nudges her legs apart once more, and lifts them to take purchase on his waist; a tight, reassuring hold.

  “You don’t need to be afraid, Rey. I feel it too.”

  He brings his hand to her core, drags a finger around it in a teasing circle before entering. She is more than prepared, her slick warmth taking the first finger easily—and the second, too. She enjoys this already familiar feeling of intrusion, how he has her writhing underneath him with just a few deliberate touches, but can’t get the previous moment out of her head; how it will be once it’s _him_ inside her.

  As if on cue, she feels the tip of him upon her, dragging lazily up and down, right _there_ and still not. She growls impatiently, hand sliding up to claw his back, searching for something to hold onto in the dark.

  “Patience, sweetheart,” he whispers with a chuckle, teasing.

  Hands grasp her by the hips to keep her still as he slides into her so painstakingly slowly, a tortuous inch by inch. It gives her a chance to adjust—but not without a slight burn at the sensation. She has never felt this full, this _surrounded_. Nothing could possibly compare.

  It’s not until his groin is flush with hers that she can breathe again.

  “Look at you, taking me so well. I knew you could do it,” he croons, bursting with pride, and presses a kiss that’s more of a grin than anything else on to the tanned valley between her breasts as if to seal the words.

  Sparks run up her spine at his praise. The aching burn has faded away, now she can feel him filling her to the brim and it’s so, so good, his length snug inside her. Only a delicious feeling of fullness remains—and a desperate need for friction.

  “You can move now, Kylo. I’m not fragile.”

  “I know you aren’t.” Another small tease as he pulls back an inch just to plunge back, in one sharp movement and she feels it _everywhere_. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

  In a clear state of mind, she would’ve had a snappy retort to his over-exaggerated testimonials, but all words fail her when he lowers his mouth to her breast, a hand covering the other one. His touches stay gentle, grounding her to the moment, slowly building up the heat. His body slides along hers, the embers bursting into a full-on flame when he begins to move. He always goes almost all out, but stops just a breath away from it, sliding in again, each time deeper if possible.

  “What a magnificent creature you are.” Adoration and awe adorn his exerted voice. A hand comes up to cup her cheek, lips brushing against her skin when he speaks. “And all _mine_.”

  “All yours,” is her responding sigh, her body curving towards his with each thrust, knowing what to do even when her mind is too dazed to comprehend it.

He kisses her anywhere he can reach: the slender slope of her neck, the corner of her jaw, her eyelids. Between the thrusts Kylo lays his mouth on hers in an unhurried, languid kiss, tongues greeting and burying their sighs. It turns quickly messy, open mouths panting against one another as his pace increases, the sounds she makes in her frenzied state devoured by him.

  “Turn around,” comes then the command that leaves no room for interpretation.

  He slips out of her and the loss makes her whimper, so easily did she grow accustomed of him inside her. She doesn’t have time to lament it as three hands gather her, curling around her torso and grasp her legs, gently turning her on her stomach, cheek pressed onto the mattress and lower body in the air, presented for him. Rey knows what he’s about to do, but it doesn’t take away the thrill of it when he eases back inside her with one smooth stroke.

  The angle is something completely different and it takes her momentarily off guard. But it’s nothing but good, absolutely ethereal and if she wasn’t pressed against the bed her legs would give under. She feels his body cover hers, his lips pressing love on her neck, hands running up and down her torso. When another one manifests to heighten the sensations on her clit with a hard rub of his fingers, she tenses up at the sudden burst of pleasure, cries out when he does it again. The string is being stretched out to its limit, a taut tether threatening to snap and it’s so close she can taste it.

  “That’s it, my Rey. You can come again, can’t you?” Kylo coos, challenging.

  The string doesn’t break just yet as his pace slows down, becomes almost too lazy, but each thrust hits that special pace buried deep within her, and it feels _so_ good she cannot stop the moans that escape her, mixing with his clipped grunts.

  This time it comes with a flash and the release rushes down on her like a rain shower, warm and unexpected. She bathes in it as long as it lasts, lets the pleasure rush through her.

  “Just like that. Gods, you have no idea how good you are, how lovely.”

  His praise is never-ending, words floating upon her like they weight nothing, affectionate, soothing sentences she can’t get enough of, soaking them up. They prolong her fall, make the inevitable return even sweeter, keeping her body warm; a pleasant flush tingling in her chest where his words gather.

  Rey feels him tremble above her, clearly reaching his breaking point in a matter of moments. She savours the last few thrusts, listens to the rush of her blood and the thud of _his_ heart as he reaches his peak.

  At last, Kylo surrenders. He comes with a muffled roar, pressed on her shoulder blade; an invisible mark she shall forever carry.

  The moonlight slips through the curtains to rest on the wall, a single stripe illuminating the otherwise dark surroundings. Rey listens to Kylo breathe behind her, his body snug right next to her own, a pitch-black hand slung over her and fingers interlocked with hers. She is safe is her shadow’s arms, the embodiment of the darkness the one protecting her from it.

  Their night doesn’t end, not even when the dawn breaks. It has only just begun.


End file.
